The People in the Story
by jsq
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles based on The StoryPeople. All genres, mostly B&B.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: In talking to a fellow fanfiction buddy, I realized that I've never been very good at writing those series of drabbles & one-shots that everyone else seems to do so well...so naturally, I thought I'd give it a try. When talking to another fanfiction buddy, I was taught about the StoryPeople. Never heard of them? Go now and check out www(DOT)storypeople(DOT)com. Anyway, I will be using StoryPeople stories as inspiration for my little vignettes; you will find the original story at the beginning of each chapter in italics. I'm just starting to write another multi-chapter story, which will be both long and dark, so this will give me an outlet for some humor and fluff (and the occasional angst- see below). Anyway, I hope you enjoy (if not my writing, at least the StoryPeople).**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bones nor StoryPeople. No copyright infringement intended**

_Falling Into Place: deciding everything is falling into place perfectly as long as you don't get too picky about what you mean by place. Or perfectly._

Everything I ever wanted. That's what I have right now. I pull her closer, and her head finds its way to the crook of my neck. I comb my fingers through her hair, absently twirling a single strand as we face the television together. We cheer loudly and allow ourselves the delusion that the Nats might actually have a shot at the Series.

Suddenly, I see it. The future. A love that lasts for thirty years, a sister for Parker, decades of Saturdays spent yelling for our team. It's so close to possible, and if I close my eyes, I don't have to think about how the hair I'm twirling around my fingers should be auburn rather than blond.

**Thanks to BonesSarah & Mali Bear's Buddy for the inspiration.**


	2. No More Secret

_No More Secret: I will always remember the day the sun shone dark on your hair & I forgot where we were & kissed you lightly on the nose & suddenly there was no more secret_

If I were like Angela, looking for the whimsy in every moment, I suppose I would blame it on the Lasso of Truth. Even though I am me, I'm willing to consider the possibility that dressed as I was, in my Halloween costume of choice since childhood, I was simply more open to forgetting myself. I have no other excuse, no other explanation to offer.

I value the truth, and I've never been comfortable with secrets. All the same, I'd been guarding mine for more than a year. It was my turn to stop myself from saying everything I wanted to say. He deserved his chance with someone else. I owed it to him.

The someone else left six months ago. It was mutual, amicable even. I don't know the details, because it wasn't _ours_; it was theirs. And though there is no longer a _them_ there hasn't really been an _us_ either. Nothing has been what it was before.

Until tonight.

Every year, the Jeffersonian hosts a Halloween party at the Museum of Natural History. Every year, we grumble about having to go. Every year, we dress up, and we go anyway. For the last few years, Booth and I have gone together. Not _together_, together, but as partners. As friends.

This year I went alone.

We hadn't talked about it, and I hadn't expected him to come. Maybe that's the reason- rather than the costume- that I dropped my guard. He surprised me. I was talking to Cam and Angela when I saw him walk through the doors. He was dressed as a squint.

Just like before.

He was there in his ridiculous, not to mention inaccurate, costume, and our eyes met from across the room. The way it happens in the movies. I did not intend to smile so brightly; it was completely involuntary.

And it gave me away.

We found our way to each other, and I told him that I hadn't thought I'd see him tonight. He told me that it wasn't Halloween without Bones.

He might have meant the dinosaur bones.

But I suppose it doesn't matter what he meant. His intentions were overshadowed by my actions- specifically, the kiss I gave him. Right there, in front of everyone. Perhaps I could have been less obvious.

Oh well.

After that smile, my secret didn't stand a chance.


	3. Best of Times

**Author's Note: This one is for erinskaya- I hope I did justice to your favorite! **

_Best of Times: I'd like to leave you with something valuable, she said. You probably already have, I said, but we take most of our lives to remember that, even in the best of times_

oOo

Here they were again, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, a bottle of tequila between them. The bottle remained unopened though, as they looked up at the night sky. He was trying to ignore the tourists wanting a glimpse of the Mall at night. She was trying to find Orion.

He spared a glance for the bottle at his feet, debating whether or not he wanted to open it. She kept her gaze on the stars, waiting for him to go first. He always went first.

But not tonight.

Finally, she tired of focusing on the constellations and decided that this would be a night for breaking routine.

"I'm sorry that things didn't work out with Hannah." She was sincere.

"No need to be, Bones." He traced the label on the bottle, equally sincere. He paused for a beat, then added, "I've known since the day she moved in that it was over. I just thought I'd pretend for a while."

Now she was studying him, trying to decide which question to ask. She was a scientist, and she knew the value of asking the right questions. Eventually, she settled. "How did you know?"

His eyes roamed the sky until he found Orion's belt. He was proud- he'd never been good at finding pictures in the stars. "It was the gift."

Her jaw dropped, which was not something that happened often. She'd never been easily surprised. "The phone? But I thought you'd always wanted a phone like that? I thought it would be the perfect gift." She was disappointed in herself. She thought of the plastic pig, the wrong smurf, the Christmas tree outside the window. She'd wanted him to have a gift that was just right.

He reached up gently and closed her open jaw, but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "It was. It was absolutely perfect. That's the problem, Bones." He thought of the dedication in her second book, the belt buckle in the graveyard, the statements on the ice rink. "For as long as I live, if someone wants to know what's right for me, they're going to have to go through you."

She picked up the bottle between them and moved closer to him, so close their shoulders were touching. She considered forcing him to look at her, but she settled for ruffling his hair. "And vice versa." Her smile grew wide. "I suppose that tells us something important."


	4. Angels of Mercy

**Author's Note: Dedicated to Chiklit. I know I went in a different direction than you suggested, but this one is providing me a break from a very intense multi-chap I'm working on, and I needed to lighten things up a bit.**

_Angels of Mercy: Most people don't know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don't get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life._

oOo

From: sbooth

To: tbrennan

Sent: Thu 03/03/2011 2:32 PM

Subject: Kill me now

Bones-

I'm writing you this email from somewhere over the Rocky Mountains, even though I know I won't actually be able to go online and send it until we land. By my calculations that won't be for another hour and eighteen minutes, give or take. Guess what, Bones? That means in about an hour and eighteen minutes, you're going to receive the longest email you've ever gotten. Do you know why? Because I can't stop writing, that's why. If I pause for even a moment, Mr. Nigel Murray here on my left will pounce on the opportunity to recount some arcane piece of air travel history.

Of course, at least he waits until I pause. Daisy, on my right, hasn't shut up since we left D.C. Apparently God is trying to punish me, so he had the ticket agent assign Daisy the window seat. Meaning that she gets to act as a narrator for everything that's going on out the window. Which, by the way, is nothing, because we're about a jillion miles in the air. There are clouds out the window. That's all. But not to Daisy. No, Daisy sees all kinds of things in the clouds- dinosaurs, metacarpals, her and "Lancelot" making love. You see, God is getting more creative with his punishments as the years go by. The clatter of my typing at least drowns her out a bit.

Why do I not put on headphones, you might ask? Well, I tried that, but your little British friend actually lifted them off my ears to tell me all about the latest findings regarding hearing loss and earbuds. I glared at him, but he kept talking. Bones, I need you to be honest, when did my glares stop scaring the squinterns? We need to work on that.

So, yeah, headphones are out. Being the logical little scientist that you are, I'm sure you're now wondering why I don't fake going to sleep. That would be because Daisy can tell that I'm faking, which leads her to incessantly question why I might do such a thing.

Bones, we've been partners for a long time. We mean a lot to each other, right? I need to know, right now, that if I were to commit a murder, you'd help me cover it up. I know that would go against your innate sense of right and wrong, but these are mitigating circumstances, aren't they? Being stuck on a transcontinental flight between Daisy and Vincent? I feel certain that you would understand and would have my back. Especially since this is, when you think about it, really all your fault.

I mean sure, Angela's your best friend, and, yeah, she could go into labor any day now. But do you really need to be there for that? I've been present at a birth, Bones, and I'm not going to lie to you, it's disgusting. You could have come out here with me to solve a murder the way we do and have gotten back in time to see the little bundle of joy before it was even a week old. That would have been a better plan. You should have thought of it.

Or, you know what, if you're just dying to be there when the baby's born (I know how touchy Angela can be), you could have at least sent me with Wendell and Arastoo. Bones, why didn't you send me with Wendell and Arastoo? And hey, you know what else? I thought Jeffersonian personnel got to fly first class? Okay, now I'm starting to think that it's not really God who's out to punish me. What did I do to you? I thought we'd worked through a lot recently.

Great, now Daisy's reading over my shoulder. She says to tell you hi. She says to thank you for the opportunity and to let you know that she won't let you down. Vincent also wants to assure you that his work will be up to the highest standards. Also, Daisy says that it was metatarsals she saw in the clouds and not metacarpals. She says I don't pay attention. Vincent says that the earliest known recording of human beings looking for shapes in the clouds...

Sorry, I just had to yell at the squints- remind them that I'm not your secretary. I think I might have been a little loud, because now I'm getting the evil eye from the Air Marshal. Like I care. Special Agent, buddy. That's right. Anyway, I suggested that since Mr. Nigel-Murray and Ms. Wick have to so much to tell you, they should compose their own little emails for you. They're working on them now. Quietly. Heh.

I guess that means I could go back to trying to fake a nap.

Hey, Bones? Don't ever abandon me like this again.

Love,

Booth


	5. Full Effort

_Full Effort: I'm going to get as far away from you as possible, she said, & there's nothing you can do to stop me. So, I shrugged & turned & started to walk away. That's not fair, she said, you're not even trying._

oOo

Tempe Brennan was ten-years-old the first time she learned that the people she loved wouldn't call her bluff. There had been an argument- about what, it didn't matter. She had presented her side with clear logic and rationality; that was what mattered. Still, she had lost. Logic had lost, and Tempe couldn't continue in a home where reason didn't win. She thrust her chin in the air, climbed the stairs and packed her bag. She returned to the living room with her duffle and paraded dramatically out the front door. It was snowing, getting dark. She walked slowly, waiting for her mother or father to call out for her. She turned back, expecting her brother to be at the window, beckoning for her return. No one was there, and she realized that they were going to let her go. Eventually, she turned around, because she could not choose a world in which she was left alone.

It was a lesson that changed her, that made her aware of how precarious her place was in the lives of others. She was a little girl- one who only believed what she could see, and she didn't know that her father had been watching...that her mother had been calling all the neighbors, asking them to watch too...that her brother had been following. She had learned her lesson, and it would be a couple of decades before she'd need a refresher.

oOo

Temperance Brennan clung tightly to her partner's arm as they walked down the concrete stairs. There had been an argument, and, _oh god, _it had mattered. Her position was clear; his was muddled. Logic had won, though, unfair as it was, she had hoped emotion would put up a stronger fight.

Over the next few weeks, she poked and prodded...tested. She got caught up in an experiment- without regard to the consequences, without regard to the lessons that had already been learned. Just how far would he let her go?

Quite far. She didn't like the answer, but she had brought it upon herself. People were not to be pushed.

Months later, when he told her it was serious, she smiled. The lesson came rushing back, and the reminder hurt. She wondered if it was too late to turn around, or if she would be left forever in a world in which she was alone.


	6. Christmas Dragon

**For erinskaya, again. Because it is the holiday season, and we deserve a little fluff.**

_Christmas Dragon: What's that supposed to be? I said. That's a Christmas dragon, he said. If Santa rode around with this instead of all those reindeer I think it'd put real teeth in the naughty-or-nice thing._

oOo

The movie came to an end, and she picked up the remote to mute the commercials. Turning back to me, she narrowed her eyes.

"You're telling me this is a Christmas classic?"

"Yes," I could see we were about to go down a path I'd prefer to avoid, so I went for a distraction, "and you know what, Bones? I think you know that. This movie has been around for a very long time, and you were a kid before you were a squint. I'm willing to bet that you've not only seen it a million times, but that you love it."

She folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head haughtily. "I can assure you that you're wrong on both accounts. I would never-"

I held up a hand to stop her. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

I gave her a knowing look. "What you're about to do."

"It's rather presumptuous of you to assume you know what I'm about to do."

There was no mistaking the flirty lilt to her words or the daringly raised eyebrow. Two could play at this game. I lowered my voice to nearly a whisper and moved in closer. "Oh, make no mistake about it. I always know _exactly_ what you're planning."

Her lips hovered above mine, her eyes sparkling. "Then tell me, Agent Booth, what am I planning to do right now?"

I folded my arms and backed away from her, triumphant. "Ruin Rudolph."

"I was not! I was not going to ruin your precious cartoon!"

The undignified squeak to her voice was so un-Bones-like and so adorable that I had to laugh. "Yes you were."

She pouted then. She actually pouted. "I was merely going to offer some suggestions for improvement."

I kept laughing. It was the throw-your-head-back kind of laughter. Our conversation wasn't really that funny, not funny enough to deserve such a reaction. It was silly at best, and that's what did it. After the past two years, after everything, Bones and I were sitting on my couch having a silly conversation. After all that had been said and done and felt, there was nothing left to argue about except Rudolph the freaking Red-Nosed Reindeer. That, my friends, was a fact deserving of my joy.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know all your suggestions- make Santa and the reindeer dad less chauvinistic; make it clear that abominable snowmen don't exist and that even if they did, they certainly wouldn't bounce; get rid of the elf choir...blah, blah, blah."

"That isn't what I was going to say at all."

"No?"

"No. I was _going_ to say that Parker was right last week when he said that reindeer are lame. I was _going_ to say that Santa needs a better mascot. I was_ going_ to suggest a dragon."

"A dragon?"

"That's right," she smiled and snuggled against me, wrapping my arm around her waist. "A Christmas Dragon. It would appeal to a new generation and would provide for a more cohesive fictional narrative. Everyone knows deer don't fly, but dragons are commonly depicted in folklore as having wings. Besides, they would prove much more frightening to all of the badly behaved children."

And I laughed again, because who couldn't love that?


	7. Imagining World

_Imagining World: In my dream, the angel shrugged & said, If we fail this time, it will be a failure of imagination & then she placed the world gently in the palm of my hand._

oOo

I approach the bar once again. Because a second glass of wine certainly won't hurt my cause. I smile at the bartender and give her a generous tip- Angela had once been a bartender, and she told me that people at parties with an open bar tend to be quite stingy.

I am determined to never be stingy again.

I walk another loop around the room, taking in the holiday lights and decorations. I am learning to appreciate them. I am learning to believe in magic.

I do not stop and talk to my friends. I haven't said a word to a single donor all night. Tonight is special. It is a night of opportunity, and I am too nervous to speak any words other than the ones I know I have to speak.

My partner is on the other side of the room, by the food. He is chatting with an elderly lady, putting her at ease, doing what he does. He glances at his watch as his conversation partner walks away, and I know I'm running out of time. I know _we're_ running out of time.

The band leader announces that there are only two songs left until midnight, and I make my way across the room. For once, I know exactly what to say. He'll know exactly what I mean. That this year can't be like last year.

I approach him, and he looks at me expectantly. This is it. This is my moment, and I will be confident.

I smile my best smile, and my heart flips when he reciprocates. "Booth," I start, trying to put the whole future into a simple question, "would you like to dance with me? You know, before we miss our chance."


	8. Bad Trip

**Author's Note: Let's call this a follow-up to 'Angels of Mercy'**

_Bad Trip: Monsters on an extended road trip & you don't know scary until you've seen America by car._

oOo

From: tbrennan

To: sbooth

Sent: Fri 04/29/2011 7:45 PM

Subject: Perhaps I should have killed you when I had the chance

Booth-

I am writing to you from the backseat of Caroline Julian's car, where I have spent the last, oh, fourteen hours. Just so you know, I use the term 'car' loosely. What do federal attorneys get paid? I have to imagine it's enough to afford a vehicle less than thirty-five years old, but perhaps the government truly is more strapped for cash than I realize. Or perhaps Caroline doesn't realize that they now make cars in which seat belts are a standard feature. Hard to say.

Why, you might ask, am I in the backseat of this car, putt-putting through the Southeast? Well, Booth, it's complicated. As you are well aware, we needed to get to West Memphis, Arkansas to identify a murder victim. What you may not realize, however, is that Caroline Julian is afraid to fly. When I reminded her that the two hour flight was statistically much less dangerous than the sixteen hour drive, she responded, "Get in the car, _cherie."_ When I stated the truth, which is that perhaps we should not keep the remains waiting for longer than necessary, she stated, "That poor sap has been dead for years. A few hours won't make him anymore dead. Now, get in the car _cherie._"

Of course, this is not the full story of how I ended up in the backseat. As I was beginning to follow Caroline's directive, Agent Perotta ran up beside me and yelled, "Shotgun!" Apparently that means she gets to ride in the front. Booth, is this something real, or something she made up? If it's real, I have to question your motives for failing to teach me this game.

Furthermore, as you also know, Sweets is with us. He's back here, with me. You know how he's always threatening to sing _Lime in Da Coconut_, and you always say, "Heh. I'd like to see that."... Well, Booth, I've seen it. Three times now. It's...not good.

Although, it's preferable to Agent Perotta's proclivity for travel games. She just finished a round of bingo. She turned to me and said, "I beat you, Dr. Brennan!" Um, excuse me. Unlike the game of 'Shotgun', I know the rules of bingo, and I can't lose if I'm not playing. Perhaps the FBI should consider implementing an IQ test for its agents.

Oh, and did you know that Caroline enjoys stopping to 'see the sites of this great land'? So far, the sites have included the following: a large glowing Jesus on a cross in Virginia, a bizarre theme park in Kentucky featuring kangaroos, and several signs in Tennessee telling me I will be going to Hell and it will be very hot. Speaking of Tennessee, we just drove through a town called Bucksnort. It's claim to fame appears to be that it is home to 'The World's Largest Adult Bookstore'...although I have driven past several stores claiming the exact same title, so perhaps it is a franchise.

All of this Booth, so that you could stay behind and attend Parker's fourth grade graduation. I'm just going to say it Booth, what the hell is the point of a fourth grade graduation? Don't get me wrong, I understand the need to support your child, but what is the message we send by commemorating the entirely unremarkable feat of passing the fourth grade? I know the D.C. school system is in shambles, but this seems to take managing expectations to an unhealthy extreme.

If, however, you had to stay behind, I don't see why you couldn't have said, "You know what? Clark is also very talented at identification. He could probably handle this one without you, Bones." Then we could have both pretended to be impressed that Parker made it out of the fourth grade (not that I'm not very proud of Parker, but come on, Booth- he hasn't even learned long division yet).

I cannot help but suspect that this might be your attempt at punishing me for your plane ride last month. If so, I will quote you- "I thought we'd worked through a lot lately." I am questioning your apparent need to go tit for tat. This will not be forgotten upon my return.

Also, I'm bringing you a miniature replica of that glowing crucifix, Booth. Next time you decide to get revenge, perhaps you could look at it and ask yourself, "What would Jesus do?"

That's right. I went there.

Not entirely sure how I feel about you right now,

Bones


	9. Chill Wind

**Author's Note: It's a sad one. Perhaps you should wait until you're in a better mood.**

_Chill Wind: Wrapped tightly against a chill wind she just remembered from a long time ago & no amount of current time & temperature can help this one._

oOo

It isn't my job anymore, analyzing people. Now, I make food. Damn good food, if I do say so. His date, the lovely Ms. Burley, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.

So, as I am now a chef- as I am no longer in the business of psychology and professional distance- I can confess my disappointment. In all of them- Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, Dr. Sweets. I'd counseled hope and patience. I'd counseled caution and observation. But they allowed push to come to shove.

Not that I didn't understand Dr. Sweets' exasperation, or Agent Booth's desire to gamble, or Dr. Brennan's need for self-preservation. I had just hoped that at least one of them would be able to rise above.

Dr. Sweets is an excellent psychologist, but Booth and Brennan are not entirely wrong to be skeptical of his age. He is young, and he lost sight of the fact that Dr. Brennan could never respond positively to a gamble. There is a part of her, a very real part of her, that is still fifteen-years-old and learning what it feels like to be left behind. She could not risk another loss. Just like the part of Agent Booth that remained in the moment following his first kill, needing to be punished. He could not wait for a sure thing.

So, they stood there, fulfilling each other's prophecies. I am old enough to know that they are not unique this way. We all leave pieces of ourselves scattered in the past. This is what the young fail to realize- that none of us are whole. When we meet each other, we are meeting the parts that have survived, the pieces that have managed to put themselves back together again.

The bits that have survived are wary. They cannot risk being lost, so they build walls and mazes and traps. They are difficult to navigate. It must be done with care.

And since I am no longer a psychologist, I can tell you that I wish they had taken a bit more care.

I am too old to believe in fairytales. I know there is no such thing as 'meant to be.' There are only decisions and their consequences. Dr. Brennan knows this too well. Agent Booth likes to pretend he doesn't know it at all. That is why it would have been a lovely story, the two of them.

I do not believe in fairytales, but I was hoping...


	10. Just Friends

**Author's Note: Let's call this a prequel to _Best of Times..._**

_Just Friends: I saw them standing there pretending to be just friends, when all the time in the world could not pry them apart._

It is my job to see what's there, even when what's there wants to remain hidden. It's my job, and I am very, very good at it.

All of that is to say, I saw it. I saw _them, _okay? From the beginning, from the very first day, from the Diner...from probably even before that. I saw them, even before I ever saw her.

But they seemed so inclined to pretend. For a while, I was inclined to pretend right along with them- because D.C. is a good city, and Seeley is a good guy. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same.

At least for a little while.

But she knows his idea of the perfect gift, and he follows her God-knows-where in the middle of the night, and it's just _so obvious_ that pretending quickly becomes humiliating. To get to either one of them, you have to go through the other.

And that was how it was always going to be.

No amount of time would ever change that particular truth, and I've never liked dealing with intermediaries. Because I am very good at my job, I'm never at a loss for a chance at a new start. I decided to take one, and I packed my bags.

He pretended he was sorry. I pretended I believed him. She was probably somewhere in the background, pretending not to understand what it all meant.

From now on, if they want to pretend, it will have to be without me.


	11. Comfort

**Author's Note: For BonesSarah, who requested fluff. I'm not sure that this qualifies, but I tried...**

_Comfort: Whenever I go on a trip, I think about all the homes I've had & I remember how little has changed about what comforts me._

oOo

In my first home, the one I lived in when I was a little girl with a different name, it was a swing. Designed for a baby, someone must have always had to lift me into it. I do not remember that part. I only remember that no one else could fit, and it was mine alone, and it let me soar.

As I grew, it was the second chair on the left at the dining room table. It was my spot- for breakfast, for dinner, for completing my homework. It did not have to be stated. Everyone knew where I belonged.

When everything familiar was taken away, and I was sent to live with other children dazed from loss, it was beneath the branches of a weeping willow. Through the curtain of leaves, I could watch without being seen. I could be present without being involved. I could think without having to feel.

In high school, it was a janitor's closet. No one ever understands that one, but it makes me question how many janitor's closets they've actually visited. In a janitor's closet, everything has its purpose and its place. Everything has its value. When you take into consideration its potential as a hiding spot and the freedom it allowed me to explore my interests, you can see that it was perfect.

At Northwestern, it was the library, with its shelves of books and its open-door policy. It was quiet, and serious, and I fit. It was a place to learn. It was a chance to become indispensable.

In D.C., I'd always thought it was the lab- a place of science. A place where everything made sense. If not the lab, then surely my apartment. The place that was all my own. The place that was proof of who I was.

That was what I'd always thought.

But coming home tonight, after being gone for a few days too long, working in a place with a few too many sad stories... I don't know. I wanted to be in a place that allowed me to safely soar. I wanted to be in a place where my spot was never in question. I wanted to be in a place where I would be protected. I wanted to be in a place where I had value, where I was indispensable. I wanted to be in a place where everything made sense.

I wanted to be home. Which was why I found myself making my way to the diner. Not because I had a regular spot by the window, not because the waitress knew my name, and not because they always knew my order without having to ask. But because he was there...and home, I've finally come to accept, is wherever he is.


	12. Riding Home

**Author's Note: **For jenlovesbones, who prefers monogamy in her fanfic writers...and for BonesSarah, who wanted me to tie the other email stories together...and for me, who needed to write something light for a change.

_Riding Home: You may not remember the time you let me go first. Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. You may not remember any of those, but I do & this is what I have to say to you: today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together._

oOo

From: sbooth

To: tbrennan

Sent: Thurs 05/19/11 6:45 AM

Subject: Enough

Bones-

Are we petty people? Because I've never thought of us as petty people. Sitting here, two hotel rooms down from you, though, I have to wonder. Someone just slid the logistical plans for our trip home from the conference under my door. It seems that the person in charge of making said plans, and we both know who that was, thought it would be a good idea for Sweets, Daisy and Fisher to ride home with me. You, on the other hand, are scheduled to make the 4 hour trip home with Cam.

Really, Bones?

Really?

Sweets. Daisy. Fisher.

And because it cannot be asked enough- really?

I get it. You're angry about your little road trip with Caroline and Perotta. For the last time, that was not retribution for my flight with Daisy and...what's-his-name...the British kid, with the mouth. Admittedly, I might have arranged it so that you had to ride up here with Sweets and Daisy, but that gave you the valuable opportunity to practice your newly acquired "Shotgun!" skills (and by the way, Bones, the phrase is "shotgun", not "handgun"...geez). So we're even. It's time to let it go.

Speaking of things it's time to let go, no more asking me "What would Jesus do?". It's creepy...especially coming from you.

So, we're putting an end to all of it. Consider this fair warning, because in fifteen minutes, I'm knocking on your door, and we're getting out of here. The two of us, Bones. Me and you. It's Cam's turn to ride with the crazies.

Now, you being you, I suspect you're going to greet me with some cockamamie argument about how you had two unpleasant rides (even though the first one was NOT payback!), and I only had one. Well, never let it be said that Seeley Booth is unwilling to compromise. Here's what I can do: Tonight, I had planned to head to a bar and watch the Flyers in the playoffs. I am willing to give that up, in the spirit of reconciliation. I can come to your house instead, and I'll bring dinner, and you can pick what we watch.

Whatever you choose, I won't complain. Even if you choose Angela's birthing video...even though I can't believe they taped that and then shared it with everyone they know...our friends are gross. But I'll watch it. I'll do whatever it takes.

Be ready Bones, because today we're going home together.

Love (that's right, I said it),

Booth


	13. Hide and Seek

**Author's Note: **The husband & his parents are watching baseball. I hate baseball, so I did this instead. I thought this series needed a little more Booth POV.

_Hide and Seek: I was never good at hide & seek because I'd always make enough noise so my friends would be sure to find me. I don't have anyone to play those games with any more, but now & then I make enough noise just in case someone is still looking & hasn't found me yet._

oOo

Yeah, I'm well aware of the fact that I don't make enough money to go dropping diamonds that size into fountains. Public servants are better suited to the practical than the symbolic.

Believe me, I get it.

But I'm also a gambler...as Sweets was so eager to point out last year...which really put me on the path to here. Hey, Sweets was also the one who put me on a path to buying that diamond I couldn't afford to throw away! Isn't there some kind of Board I could report him to?...But that's a drunken rant for another day.

Where was I? Diamonds. And gambling. Right.

So, as a gambler (not a practical public servant), I made a losing bet. I asked a question, even when the odds of a favorable answer were against me. I lost- the girl and the diamond.

So I was here, drinking alone, with less than I had before. And that's how it should be, when you lose.

But then _she_ walked in, ruining all that should be, like always. And she says Hannah called her, and that is really fucked up. And I want to tell her to go, because she's the last person I want to see right now.

But I let her stay, because she's also the only person I want to see right now. I let her stay, because with her beside me, it feels like there might still be time for all that should be.


	14. Heading South

**For my fellow Southerners, cursing the heat. It does have its charms.**

_Heading South: They drove south one winter until they could stand outside with no coats on & we never saw them again._

oOo

She doesn't believe in psychology. She loves telling me that. If I had to guess, I'd say she doesn't believe in inevitability either...but he does. I suppose it doesn't really matter which of them is right, but it still feels like this, and so much between them, was inevitable.

Because even the toughest among us have our limits for facing the worst of the world. Even the most repentant can only pay back so much. And even the hottest natured grow weary of winters in D.C.

So it didn't really surprise me when he asked her to go. And I knew there was no way she'd sat anything other than "yes." I think it surprised him...probably because she isn't really one to agree to his proposals. But the kids are grown, and things have changed, and it was time.

They drove away together, like I always thought they would. She had never worn his ring, but he was on his way to getting his fifty years. The rest of those years, it seemed, would be spent somewhere warm, somewhere with fewer clouds to block the light.

And I will miss my friends, but they deserve it, don't you think? To live out the rest of their eventually in the sunshine?


	15. Almost Beyond

_Almost Beyond: She laid on my chest & her breathing filled me almost to beyond what I could hold._

"Bones, come on. We have to get this figured out." He waved the paperwork at his partner, who simply snuggled their two-day-old baby girl closer to her chest and addressed him with a calm he was starting to find irritating.

"It is preferred that we apply for the birth certificate before leaving the hospital, but it's not required."

"She has to have a name. Our daughter is not leaving this hospital without a name." He held up a hand in warning, "And don't even think of bringing up how the Nepalis wait a hundred and one days to name their children. Our kid is American, Bones. She's going to be named before she leaves the hospital like an American." He turned to Parker for support, but that was useless. The eleven-year-old had quickly lost interest in his baby sister when he'd figured out it would be months before she would do anything more interesting than sleep. He'd retreated to his portable video game with instructions for someone to "Let me know when she's old enough to laugh at my funny faces."

Brennan tore her eyes from the little girl in her arms and returned them to her partner. "Of course she's going to have a name. Let's review our options."

"What options? You've shot down every suggestion I've made for the last nine months. I even said you could name her Darwin-"

"-A completely ridiculous suggestion." She would never to that to her baby.

"Yes, it was ridiculous, which just shows you how desperate I am. At this point, I'm ready to let the squinterns choose her name via raffle."

She was puzzled, "That is not how I understood a raffle to work."

"Bones..." It was a warning.

She knew it was time to make a choice, but she wanted to do this correctly. She had rejected all of Booth's names, because his suggestions tended toward the sentimental. He wanted to name the baby _after_ someone. He started with relatives, then moved on public figures- religious, political, scientific- but he didn't understand. This baby was brand new. Brennan wanted her to be brand new, not weighed down by anyone else's legacy. She wanted her to have a name that was all her own.

"Name her Miri- short for Miriam." The adults in the room turned to Parker, who was holding up his video game. "Look, this is Miri." He pointed to one of the characters. "She's a ninja. She's half-cat. I always play her, even though she's a girl, because she's the best fighter. I think that would be a good name for my sister. Besides, all of her noises sound like cat noises."

Miriam. Miri. She had never known a Miriam, never identified the remains of a Miriam, never read about a murderer named Miriam. Brennan nodded. "I find that acceptable."

Booth's eyes widened as he turned from his partner to his son. "Are you serious? You won't let me name her after her grandmother, but you're willing to name her after a cat warrior?"

"Half-cat. And she's a ninja," Parker clarified.

Booth didn't say anything, but his expression said, "See?"

But she had already decided. Miriam. It was perfect. "By the time Miriam is able to talk, the half-cat ninja warrior will be long forgotten, and all she will remember about her name is that her brother chose it."

The goofy smile was back, the one he'd worn when she told him they were having a baby. Miriam. He held out the papers. "Write it down."

Parker had been watching the back and forth from behind his game. "Wow. This baby just got so much cooler."


	16. Perfect Day

_Perfect Day: It was a day filled with the glow of ordinary things & we passed them quietly from hand to hand for a long time & someone said she had picked a perfect day to be born & I think all of us felt the same._

She came into the world on a Tuesday afternoon, right on time. Her parents encountered no greater obstacle during their ride to the hospital than a slight drizzle of rain. She took her first breath in a sterilized room populated by a doctor, two nurses and her mom and dad.

She immediately screamed from the shock of it all.

She did not scream for long, though, because there were arms to welcome her and familiar voices to greet her. It was any given Tuesday, so in the universe beyond that sterile room there were surely disasters and hijinks and miracles and losses.

But in that room, on the day she was born, there was only the magic of the perfectly ordinary.


End file.
